


Blue

by Transposable_Element



Series: Engagements [5]
Category: Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
Genre: Birdwatching, California, F/M, University of California Berkeley, nerds, post-war science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 06:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: Dick faces a turning point in his scientific career; gets helpful feedback





	1. Wildcat Canyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick goes bird watching.

**March 23, 1949. Berkeley, California.**

Dick left his flat early and bicycled slowly up the road. It was a steep climb, but he knew how to pace himself and wasn’t too winded when he reached Grizzly Peak. The first rays of the sun were visible over the ridge to the east, and the morning chill was beginning to soften. He turned north on the road that ran along the ridge overlooking Wildcat Canyon. The name always made him smile.

At the trailhead he saw that there was a bicycle already leaning against the post marking the trail. He set his next to it and put down the kickstand, then took his binoculars out of his rucksack and hung them around his neck.

The bird watching here in Berkeley was very good. Dick was glad he had taken the fellowship here, rather than the one in Chicago. He would have had the same dilemma there as he did here, but at least here he could soothe his anxiety by bird watching in the hills or out on the bay shore.

The trail led steeply down through scrub oak and bay laurel. He passed a madrone—such a strange tree, with its peeling red bark—and stopped for a moment to examine its clustered buds, which were just starting to open into tiny white flowers.

Eventually the trail turned sharply to the left, and when he came around the bend he found the other bicyclist sitting in his favorite spot, a flat rock near the trail, overlooking the canyon. Her back was to him, her hair hanging down in a long, black braid. She was sitting very still, binoculars trained on something he couldn’t see.

For a moment Dick wondered if he should just go back, or maybe further down the trail, to find another place to sit. But he hadn’t been making any effort to be quiet, and she must have heard him coming down the trail, for she turned and looked at him, putting a finger to her lips. Dick felt himself blushing. A bird watcher should know better than to make so much noise.

She raised her eyebrows and patted the rock next to her. Then, without looking to see his reaction, she took up her binoculars and looked back at whatever she had been observing before. He guessed she must have noticed his binoculars and realized why he was there. He took off his rucksack, came forward quietly, and sat down next to her on the rock (there was plenty of room, really). He put his rucksack by his feet.

An Acorn Woodpecker dove out of a tree somewhere to the left, and Dick raised his binoculars to follow it as it arrowed toward the main granary tree, aiming for the nest cavity near the top. A moment later several woodpeckers were taking up their raucous cry. The newcomer and another bird were just visible in the nest cavity; two others were stationed lower down on the tree trunk. He knew that at least three more members of the family were somewhere about, perhaps on the other side of the tree where he couldn’t see them, or in one of the smaller granary trees nearby.

One of the birds tugged an acorn out of a hole in the tree’s bark, hopped a few inches sideways, placed the acorn in another hole, removed it again, hopped further to place it in a different hole, and finally tapped it in with its beak. There were plenty of holes to choose from: the tree’s trunk was a mass of holes, a thousand or more drilled into the dead wood, most containing acorns. Dick had been astonished the first time he saw it. The birds must have been using the same tree for generations. Last autumn he had watched as they gathered acorns and stored them. Now they seemed to be spending a lot of time moving them around from hole to hole. Maybe the acorns shrank as they dehydrated and had to be moved to other, smaller holes. Or maybe the woodpeckers were restless birds, constitutionally unable to just sit around doing nothing.

“I think it’s okay if we talk quietly. They’re noisy enough themselves.”

Dick, who had almost forgotten his neighbor, started slightly and turned toward her.

“Sorry about before. I was watching a warbler, but he’s gone now,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. You didn’t scare him away, I think the woodpeckers did. Or maybe he just had somewhere else to be.”

“What kind of warbler?”

“Townsend’s.”

“I haven’t seen one of those yet.”

She let out a slight huff of breath that he supposed was meant for a laugh. “I can tell you’re not from around here.” She stuck out her hand. “Lisa Altounian,” she said.

“Dick Callum,” he said as he shook her hand. “Is your name Armenian?”

“Yup. And you’re English, of course.”

Dick took off his specs and began polishing them. As he was putting them back on he sneaked a look at her. She was about his age and had dark eyes, a narrow face, and a pointed chin. Her expression was serious now, but she had laughed before. Or maybe it was just a snort. Sometimes he had trouble telling what people meant if they weren’t being completely straightforward. She raised her binoculars and turned back to the woodpeckers in their tree, and with some relief he did the same. The birds were having some kind of noisy family quarrel.

“Have you been watching these woodpeckers long?” he asked. It was easier to talk to her now that he was looking through his binoculars and not at her.

“Since last fall.”

“Really? I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before today.”

“Oh, well, this is the first time I’ve watched from here. I’m sorry, is this your spot?”

“Yes, but I don’t mind sharing.” He could feel himself blushing again.

“Thanks. My lookout is over there,” she gestured, “but I couldn’t see the nest cavity very well so I thought I’d try to find a better vantage point.”

“Makes sense.”

“Anyway, now I know I was right. Those two in the nest cavity are both female. I think more than one bird is laying eggs in there.”

Dick had also noticed that both birds were female; their heads were red with a black stripe at the front, while the males had a full red cap. “That’s interesting. Why do you think they’re both laying?”

“About a week ago I saw one of the females push something out of the nest. I think it was another bird’s egg. But I haven’t seen anything like that since. Once a bird lays in the nest cavity she has no way of knowing whether an egg belongs to her or another female, so she can’t destroy it. And now they’re both in and out of there all the time. At least two of them, maybe more.”

“That makes sense. It’s how some birds deal with cuckoo’s eggs, too. They push them out, but they stop doing that once they start laying their own eggs because they don’t know which are their own.”

“Yes, that’s a good comparison.”

“I saw one of the males up by the nest cavity yesterday,” Dick said.

“Yesterday? How often do you come up here?”

“Oh, not every day. As often as I can make the time. They’re interesting birds.” As they watched, one of the birds pulled an acorn out of the hole and then dropped it, to the apparent consternation of its fellows.

They watched in silence for a while. Dick noticed that the woman—Lisa, he reminded himself—was taking notes. “I say, are you studying them? Formally, I mean?”

“Sort of,” she said. She continued writing for a moment. Then, after another quick look through her binoculars she turned to him. “I say,” she mimicked, and then snorted again.

“Was that funny?” he asked. He was blushing. Not again!

“A little. But—oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I can be pretty tactless.”

“It’s all right. I blush easily.”

“That’s a disadvantage of being fair-skinned,” she said.

Dick lowered his binoculars and peered at her. She had what Dot would probably call “olive” skin. Why olive? Olives were green or black. He had never seen an olive the color of this woman’s skin.

They sat for another half hour, exchanging a word here and there but mostly quiet. Dick checked his watch a couple of times. It was really time to go, but he couldn’t decide how best to make his exit.

Fortunately Lisa solved this problem. “I have to be going,” she said. “I have a class at 10:00.” She began collecting her things.

“I should go, too.” He got up.

“I haven’t seen you around the biology department.”

“I’m in chemistry,” he said. “Visiting for the year.”

“I’m a graduate student. You look young for a professor.”

“I’m 27. But I’m not a professor, I’m on a post-doctoral fellowship.”

They started up the trail.

“You should use this lookout from now on, if you want to. I promise I won’t bother you if I happen to be here at the same time,” he said.

She turned back to look at him. “You don’t bother me,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why no, I didn't pick the name Altounian for any particular reason. Why do you ask?
> 
> I don't mean to deride Chicago, which has some very good bird watching on the lake. But the Pacific Flyway is special.


	2. Pilot study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Dick and Lisa have concerns about their careers in science.

**March-April, 1949**

It quickly became a habit, meeting every Wednesday and Saturday morning at the lookout point. Dick wasn’t sure if Lisa came at other times, but if she did, he didn’t see her. They didn’t talk very much, but the conversation was always interesting. She brought oranges, and he brought an extra mug so they could share his thermos of tea.

After a couple of weeks of deflecting his questions, Lisa finally explained what she had meant when she said she was “sort of” formally studying the birds. She was doing a pilot study (“in my superabundant free time”), hoping to convince her advisor that the birds would be a good subject for her dissertation. “It would make a great longitudinal study because they stay right here, all year round, year after year. I’d need a grant, though. Just a small one, but I’d need to band them and I’d need to buy a camera. Ideally I’d bring in a few more observers, too.”

But so far she had had no luck persuading her advisor. “He thinks it’s old fashioned. Natural history. Not rigorous enough. Besides, I think he’d be glad to see me gone.”

“He wants you _gone_? Why?”

“Oh, you know the attitude. Training women is a waste of time because they just get married and quit. That kind of thing.”

“Lots of married women worked during the war,” said Dick. “And before, and after,” he added in response to her raised eyebrow. Dick began compiling a list of all the married women he knew who had jobs, in case she asked. Dot didn't exactly have a job, but she wrote at home and was paid for it, so he thought it counted. 

“…anyway, he keeps saying I should move over to the forestry department, which seems pretty ludicrous to me…. I’ll probably have to come up with something I can study in a petri dish and just hold my tongue until I get my degree.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you won’t give up on the birds.”

“No, I think I’m hooked. What about you? Where do you go next?”

Dick couldn’t reply, and after a moment Lisa said “Sorry, was that a bad question?”

“No. It’s a very good question. I just don’t know the answer. I’m—well, I’ve been offered a position here in the chemistry department. I have to decide soon. I should probably accept it, but I don't think I want to.”

“You want to get back home?” she asked.

“No. I mean, I do, eventually, but I like it here and I wouldn’t mind staying for a few more years. It’s just, I probably shouldn’t even talk about it, but this position has to do with weapons research. It’s a good offer, and a chance to work with some great scientists, but I don’t want to do weapons work any more. It was one thing during the war; we all did what we could. If they’d asked me to work on the bomb I would have done it. I’m glad I didn’t have to, though. And now … I don’t like the way things are going.”

“Couldn’t you do something else? Why not talk to a biochem research group? There are a couple here that might have a position for you.”

“I’m not really at a point in my career where I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re not at a point in your career where you have to do whatever they tell you, either. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said.

She was looking steadily at him, apparently expecting some sort of response, but he had none. Looking her in the eye became uncomfortable, so he shifted his gaze a little. He squinted, polished his glasses, and looked again.

“What is it? Is there a twig in my hair or something?” She brushed the top of her head with her hand.

“No, it’s just…” Dick was aware that he was probably going to embarrass himself, but he couldn’t help it. “I was wondering about your hair—what makes it blue like that. That is, sometimes, when the light hits it, there’s a blue sheen. It can’t be pigment, so it must be some kind of scattering effect…I’ve noticed it before….”

She pulled the end of her braid over her shoulder and looked at it. “I’ve wondered about that, too,” she said, and Dick immediately felt better.

“I suppose it has something to do with the shape of the hair shaft,” he suggested.

“Probably. Or the cuticle. We could put a few strands under a microscope, take a look.”

“Are you serious?”

“Sure. Why not? There are plenty of scopes back in the lab. It’s usually deserted on Saturdays, but I have a key.”

“I’m not even sure I would recognize anything unusual if I saw it. I don’t know much about hair.”

“Neither do I. But we could compare it to some of your hair. Besides, didn’t you ever put random things under a microscope when you were a kid, just because you were curious?”

“Yes, of course. But I’m not a kid any more.”

She snorted. “That’s a stupid attitude. You don’t stop being curious just because you’re a few years older. Why else are you out here watching the birds, when it’s not part of your—Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dick hadn’t realized he was looking at her like anything. “Nothing. That’s just. Good logic.”

“Glad you agree. So let’s go!” she said.

They collected their things and she led the way up the trail.

On the way up he looked at his watch. It was after noon already. “What about some lunch first? There’s a place I go to sometimes, north of campus.”

She turned back to look at him. “All right. But….Listen, Dick, I don’t want to embarrass you, I just want to be sure I’m understanding this, because I don’t always get people. Would this lunch be like a date? Or not. Either way is fine.”

“Um, yes?” he answered, although it hadn’t occurred to him until she said it. But now that she _had_ brought it up, it seemed like a very good idea. “I mean, yes. Definitely yes. That’s what I meant.”

“Come on, then,” she said, and took his hand, pulling him after her up the trail.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Acorn Woodpeckers are completely fascinating birds. It turns out that by 1925 they were known to be [communists](https://sora.unm.edu/sites/default/files/journals/condor/v027n01/p0012-p0019.pdf) and suspected of practicing group marriage (!!!), but as far as I know the first rigorous longitudinal study began in 1974 (and is still in progress) Info [here](https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Acorn_Woodpecker/overview). 
> 
> Berkeley didn't have an environmental sciences or ecology department until a couple of decades after this takes place. It formed as a merging of the forestry and agriculture departments. 
> 
> Lisa is partly based on an Armenian-American friend I had in high school who really did have hair with a blue sheen in the right light. One of our classmates asked her what kind of dye she used to get the effect and was disappointed to learn that it was natural. Circa 1949, a adult woman wearing her hair long and braiding it would have been very unusual and unfashionable.
> 
> After the war there were quite a few scientists who left the physical sciences for biology. This was part of what inspired the rapid growth in molecular biology in the 1950's. I knew someone who turned down what would have been a very prestigious job at Berkeley around that time because it would have involved weapons research. Dick has always been a naturalist, so moving over into biology seems like a good trajectory for him.


End file.
